


be the salt on your skin

by alykapedia



Series: like an overripe fruit [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Sex Toys, Yuuri's thirsty AF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 17:16:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9247565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alykapedia/pseuds/alykapedia
Summary: Yuuri’s heat arrives two weeks after Viktor shows up.(Or: the five times Katsuki Yuuri spent his heats alone, and the one time he didn't (and never would again).)





	

**Author's Note:**

> as i was writing this, the framed photo of jesus my grandma put in my bedroom is judging me. see you all in hell, kids.
> 
> i'm a sucker for omegaverse and i just needed to write this ok. and advanced apologies for the subpar porn. i'm new to this.
> 
> unbeta-ed. lemme know if there are any glaring mistakes. i'm ashamed enough for writing this without worrying about my terrible grammar.

_fifteen_

_A late bloomer_ , Yuuri hears his pediatrician say over the din of the old air-conditioning unit.

He’s trying hard not to fidget in his seat, tries to find comfort in his mother’s presence beside him as the doctor, a greying beta, tells them calmly and systematically what to expect for his first heat. She tells them the proper precautions they should take, medications he should consider in the future, wrapping everything up in benign words and a clinical smile.

Except his heat is nothing but benign or clinical. Nothing like anything she described that he should be preparing for because nothing, Yuuri thinks hysterically, could have prepared him for the way his stomach caves in on itself, his insides turning into a squirming mass of need and want.

He’s clenching around a dildo, thighs drenched in slick as he stares unseeing at the posters of Viktor Nikiforov he knows are there and wonders what it would be like to have a real alpha share his heat. Imagines himself being spread open by something thicker and hotter than the toy inside him, something connected to an alpha, something that can knot him and breed him. He thinks about long silver hair brushing against sensitive nipples, large hands spreading his thighs wide as powerful hips drive repeatedly into where Yuuri is wet and wanting.

He comes with Viktor Nikiforov’s name on his lips.

 

_seventeen_

Yuuri’s second heat is no more satisfying than the first.

By which he means it isn’t, not at all.

He goes off of his suppressants by necessity; his doctors adamant and strict about the two year limit. They time it on the off-season and he spends the week locked in his room, shoving a fake cock up his sopping entrance and stripping his cock feverishly, chasing orgasm after orgasm. The only good thing about his second heat (aside from the new, larger dildo he’d wheedled Minako into buying for him) is that he has an idea of what works and what doesn’t, what his body likes, and how his best orgasms come when he’s thinking of Viktor Nikiforov.

_nineteen_

His first heat in Detroit happens immediately after finals and a grueling invitational that Yuuri wins by the skin of his teeth.

And it’s ten kinds of terrible because Yuuri’s stressed out and completely unprepared for it, mind spinning and stomach dropping to his feet when his scent turns sickly sweet and slick trickles down his thighs. He’s not quite clear on what happens afterwards. He only knows that he’d been able to send a mostly coherent text to Celestino that his suppressants had worn off, and that his coach had somehow managed to smuggle a delirious, heat-ridden omega out of the venue for the invitational, before driving him to the nearest omega facility, all in the space of an hour.

When he comes back, red-faced and mouth bursting with apologies, Celestino sits him down and, before Yuuri can say anything, _apologizes_.

“I should have paid more attention to your heat cycles,” the older man says, bowing low. “I’m sorry.”

Yuuri chokes on his own tongue, waving his hands in front of him frantically. “That’s—you don’t have to apologize, coach. I mean, it’s my fault and—“

“Yuuri,” Celestino starts, cutting him off. “You’re my student and your health is important. As your coach, I should be able to help you with these things, even if it’s just to ferry you from your dorm to the facility.”

He blames the residual heat hormones for making him tear up. Really, Yuuri’s not this emotional normally. He sniffs, clears his throat, and offers the older man a tremulous smile.

“ _Grazie_ , coach.”

 

_twenty-one_

“Are your heats always like this?”

Yuuri doesn’t move, doesn’t even dare breathe, in the futile hope that Phichit will stop asking questions and leave him alone. Of course, from the persistent finger poking him on the sides, it doesn’t work. It never does. Yuuri doesn’t even know why he tries.

Yuuri looks up blearily at Phichit from where he was lying face-down on his bed, squinting at his roommate’s curious look. He’s still so incredibly sore and it’s times like these that he really misses the hot springs. He sighs into his folded arms before turning to Phichit with a single raised eyebrow.

“Are my heats always like what?”

Phichit raises an eyebrow back in response, making himself more comfortable on the bed. “Uh, terrible? You look like you did suicide runs for an entire week instead of,” the Thai trails off, tilting his head to the side as if it would help him find a better way to phrase _fucking yourself silly_ , “whatever it is you do.”  

He shrugs, exhaling heavily through his nose. “I dunno, I guess? My doctor said it’s going to keep being terrible unless I have it properly with a heat mate.” Which, well, isn’t going to happen anytime soon. Yuuri had idly considered the possibility of hiring a heat mate for this heat, but ultimately decided against it; uncomfortable even at the idea of sharing something as intimate as a heat with someone he barely knows.

Not that that stops him from thinking of how good Viktor Nikiforov would be in satisfying his heats, but _whatever_.

“Huh,” Phichit says, turning his attention back to his phone, curiosity seemingly sated for the mean time. Yuuri’s about to go back to his nap when Phichit says, “Say, Yuuri?”

“Yeah?” Yuuri groans, because he’s tired and he needs all the rest he can get before afternoon practice, and he knows that ignoring Phichit never works.

“Have you ever fantasized about Viktor Nikiforov during your heats?”

“ _What?!_ ”

Phichit’s mouth drops open at his very telling outburst and Yuuri wants to die.

“Holy shit, Yuuri. Your thirst is real.”

“Shut _up._ ”

 

_twenty-three_

Yuuri’s heat arrives two weeks after Viktor shows up.

And it’s fine, it’s okay. He can deal with one measly unsuppressed heat before he goes back to chugging suppressants like a champ. He’s not some newly-presented omega, after all. He can do this, he knows he can. He’ll deal with his heat like he always does, and not even Viktor Nikiforov—five time world champion and the star of each and every one of Yuuri’s wet dreams—breathing the same air can put a damper on that. He’s already accounted for Viktor’s scent affecting him and has already made the necessary adjustments, so everything should be fine.

But then Yuri Plisetsky arrives and Yuuri’s body goes into fucking overdrive.

Because now there are two alphas living in close contact with him, one of them a newly-presented one and Yuuri, for all his preparations never quite considered the possibility of Yurio accosting him after a grueling practice session with a trembling hand around his wrist.

Yurio looks _absolutely wrecked_ and a terrible, terrible part of Yuuri preens in satisfaction at the sight. “I—you—“ the blond stumbles on his words, face flushed and pupils blown wide and looking like he wants nothing more than to run away but can’t seem to bring himself to let go of Yuuri.

“Yurio—“ he starts to say, wants to comfort the boy because Yuuri knows that his pre-heat scent must be thick and cloying even with the scent-cancelling soap he’s using, but before he can say anything more, Viktor is there.

 _Viktor is there_ and his normally subtle scent is suffocating as he approaches them and that terrible part of Yuuri licks its lips in anticipation, because _that_ is an alpha he’d happily go on all fours for. Viktor looms behind Yurio, taking in the way the teen’s fingers have yet to unlatch themselves from Yuuri’s wrist with a cool gaze.

“Is there a problem here?” Viktor asks, voice betraying nothing even as a hand lands on the nape of Yurio’s neck. It’s a blatant display of dominance if Yuuri ever saw one and he feels his knees shake and his hole leak. “Yura?” Viktor says, and Yuuri can see the minute tightening of the hand on Yurio’s neck.

As if waking up from a dream, Yurio hastily lets go, face drawn and pale, suddenly submissive.

That done, Viktor turns his attentions to Yuuri, scent ratcheting up as he smiles wide. “Your heat’s tomorrow, isn’t it?” He asks, cordial as you please. As if he can’t smell it on Yuuri, as if he doesn’t know that Yuuri’s already wet for him, ready to be mounted, ready for Viktor’s knot and gagging for it. He easily steers Yurio behind him, stepping forward into Yuuri’s space before draping the coat he’d been wearing all day over Yuuri, enveloping him in Viktor’s sweet-spicy scent.

“I asked Yuuko to drive you back home,” he whispers against Yuuri’s ear, securing and smoothing the coat needlessly over Yuuri’s shoulders. Each touch ignite embers in the pit of Yuuri’s stomach, and _dear lord_ he’s definitely leaking into his pants now. “Yurio and I will walk back to the inn to clear our heads.”

And then Viktor’s steering him to Yuuko’s car, a firm hand on the small of his back, just a few inches away from where Yuuri wants it. If Yuuri was braver (or a worse person), he’d coax Viktor’s hand lower, but he’s not, so he doesn’t, and instead lets himself be directed into the backseat of Yuuko’s car.

Later, after Yuuko delivers him to his family’s inn and after Mari goes over him with a scent-cancelling spray and after his dad sets up guard in front of his bedroom, Yuuri will think of Viktor and Viktor’s hands on him. He’ll think of Viktor as he fucks himself on his knotted dildo, Viktor’s coat wrapped around naked shoulders as he breathes in Viktor’s scent. He’ll think about the meagre distance between their rooms and just how easy it is to go to Viktor’s room and sink down on him, hungry for it, and he’ll wonder if Viktor will fuck him as good as he does in Yuuri’s fantasies. He’ll think about the naked want he saw on Viktor’s eyes, the flash of possessiveness, and lets the memory fuel him through the worst heat he’s ever had.

 

 

 

_twenty-five_

“ _Yuuri?_ ”

He comes to with gentle hands carding through his hair, Viktor peering down at him with concern writ clearly on his face. Yuuri hums in reply, nosing contentedly at Viktor’s collarbone. His body is a throbbing mass of satisfaction and contentment, languid and flushed with pleasure.  

Viktor makes an amused noise deep in his chest, hands gentle as he turns Yuuri’s face to look at him. “You blacked out for a moment there, solnyshko.” He teases, hands smoothing themselves on the bare expanse of Yuuri’s back. “Was it that good, hm?”

Yuuri rolls his eyes but chooses not to say anything, instead focusing on the delicious stretch of Viktor’s knot sitting snugly inside him. “It is,” he sighs, eyelashes fluttering as he rolls his hips experimentally on Viktor’s lap, earning himself a pleased rumble. His breath hitches when the movement adds more pressure on his already stretched rim, overwhelming and so, so good. Better than all of his fantasies.

“Oh?” Viktor is outright teasing him now, a smug twist to his grin, but Yuuri feels too content to disabuse him of the notion. Still, it doesn’t mean that Yuuri can’t tease back.

Leaning forward to graze his teeth on the blooming mating bite on Viktor’s shoulder, Yuuri begins, voice taking on a breathy quality that he knows gets Viktor hot. “I’ve thought about this ever since I had my first heat.”

Viktor moans, pulling him up for a deep, languorous kiss, before asking, “and just what did fifteen-year-old Yuuri think about?”

“About what it would be like to spend my heat with an alpha,” Yuuri mouths against Viktor’s lips, shivering when he feels the familiar trickling of heat underneath his skin. While their enthusiastic coupling accompanied with Viktor’s mating bite had toned down his heat into a faint simmer, Yuuri knows that there’s more to come and for the first time ever, he’s giddy at the prospect. “How good it would be.”

“Anyone in particular you had in mind?”

Yuuri grins knife-sharp, gingerly pushing up into a sitting position, hands balanced on Viktor’s chest. His thighs grip at Viktor’s hips just as the hands that had been idly tracing shapes on his back dig into the meat of his ass. “Just some skater,” Yuuri finally says with a careless shrug of his shoulder.

“Must be an impressive one.” Viktor muses, flexing his knees so Yuuri can lean back on them. His hands knead at the muscle on Yuuri’s ass, fingers occasionally teasing at the swollen entrance gushing with slick, ready for another round.

“Oh, he is.” Yuuri says, rolling his hips in earnest now, one hand braced on Viktor’s knee while the other pulled at his aching cock. “Five time consecutive World Champion, gorgeous eyes, and the nicest ass I’ve ever seen,” he punctuates the statement with a twist of his hips that drags almost painfully against his rim.

“Sounds like an amazing guy,” Viktor quips, thrusting up leisurely, knot almost deflated enough to come loose.

Yuuri nods absently as he meets Viktor’s thrust with a roll of his hips.

“Shame about the thinning hair, though.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> yuuri is full of cock like i am full of regrets


End file.
